


Secret Admirer

by micehell



Category: Stargate - All Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-11
Updated: 2009-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only after he woke up, another game playing, John curled up tight against his chest, that it occurred to him that this: the cold pizza, the warm beers, the military commander of Atlantis as a closet snuggler, was <i>their</i> secret.  A part of them, and no one else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Admirer

Cameron had learned long ago that some things you just left alone. Everyone had secrets, and it wasn't a matter of not loving someone enough, or not wanting to share, but that everyone _needed_ some parts of them that were only for them, and no one else.

John, however, was a walking secret, more unknown than known, and it hurt sometimes, no matter how much he tried to ride it through, that he was always going to be so close, and no closer, to probably the most compelling mystery he'd ever come across in his life. 

Still, he'd known the ground rules when he went in, and for the most part it made him happy. Neither of them risked their careers by any public displays. Neither of them asked about their exes, even if they were still on their teams. Neither of them asked about the scars; the one Cameron had on the back of his neck, right near the curve of his shoulder, the one John had on his chest, too close to his heart. 

It could have been a unfulfilling relationship, too little shared to be more than sex, except for days like this. The rest of the world was out celebrating with champagne and chocolate, cards and diamonds, and they were in Cam's somewhat stark apartment, lazy after sex, cold pizza in one hand, beer in the other. Cam had thought at first that John was changing the TV channels with his mind, because a new one went by about every three seconds, but he'd eventually figured out he was sitting on the remote, and they'd finally settled on Arizona State/Stanford game, with Cam rooting for Arizona just to piss John off.

He never did see the end of the game, great sex, four beers, and John's feet warm and cozy in his lap, leading him down into sleep. It was only after he woke up, another game playing, John curled up tight against his chest, that it occurred to him that this: the cold pizza, the warm beers, the military commander of Atlantis as a closet snuggler, was _their_ secret. A part of them, and no one else. 

And maybe John (hair spiked up in about a zillion different directions, mouth tasting of stale beer and something Cam had never been able to identify, ratty sweats almost falling off of him, their elastic long shot, and looking far better that way than he had any right to), would always have his secrets, but who he was to Cam was never going to be one of them.


End file.
